


One Lit Candle

by JustAPLant



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst and Sadness Everywhere, mostly mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAPLant/pseuds/JustAPLant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Massive spoilers for Zombies Run S4 Episode 22.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Lit Candle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Six to Start (Thanks a bunch you jerks)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Six+to+Start+%28Thanks+a+bunch+you+jerks%29).



There aren’t words for this kind of terror. The zombies are closing in, but he’s there, just there, you could almost grab him if there weren’t bars in the way… But you don’t have the tools or the time to get Sam free. Help is coming, but those zoms are mere seconds away. You’re reaching for your gun desperately hoping that you might be able to defend him, but he’s passing you a tiny little bundle through the bars.

 

“ _No one_ else touches her, _no one_ else holds her until she’s back with her mums, okay? Just _you_.” Your hands shake as you take the baby gingerly wrapped in an only slightly bloodstained cloth. For a moment, Sam’s fingers linger on the inside of your wrist. He looks up at you and though his breathing is uneven and ragged, his eyes are narrowed with resolve. He gives your hand the slightest of squeezes before he pulls away and turns to face the zom that has your face. The door across the wall is buckling underneath the onslaught of blows from the swarm of awaiting zombies. Suddenly, you realize what’s about to happen.

 

 

            “Sam, _no_!” You yell, wrenching at the bars like they might give way.

 

He turns back to look at you. “Please, I don’t want you to see this, okay? I don’t want my daughter to be here for this.” Sam’s words are composed, but the trembling in his legs says he’s barely resisting the urge to collapse.

 

            “Hang on! We can still-“

 

            “There’s no time anymore and we all know it!” he calls back, and you whirl around, looking desperately for something, someone, _anything_ ….

 

           

            “Now, it’s been-“

 

            “Don’t, Sam-”

 

            “Knowing you…has just been-“

 

            “ _Sam_ -“

           

            “The…the _best_ -there _ever_ was. _You_ … are the best, the finest…just-”

 

            “You _can’t_ Sam! _Please_!”

 

            “I’m _so_ glad to have lived through all this with you.” Tears are streaking down his cheeks.

 

            _Don’t leave me, Sam. Don’t leave me here alone._

 

            “And you’ll be _fine_!”

 

            _No. No, I won’t! I need you!_

 

            “Remember I… You said she’d be fine without me… You’ll all be fi-“

 

            The door splinters as the wave of zombies bursts into the room. They’re on him in seconds. One after the other, ripping and tearing. You’ve seen the carnage of zombies too many times, but this is completely different. Watching someone you know, somebody you love, being ripped apart alive is something your brain cannot process. You can see one pair of rotting hands shredding through to the bone, the sinews of an arm ripped up by another, another diving straight for his neck…

 

Sam screams like you’ve only heard him scream in nightmares, writhing and howling in pain. Instinctually he lashes out, attempting to defend himself, but it’s futile. There are so many zombies slashing at him that he doesn’t even have room to fall to the ground. You don’t want to see this. There’s nothing left you can do anymore. You can’t even reach for your gun. All you can do is watch helplessly while an unhuman screech emits from the depths of your throat.

 

            “ _Five-_!“ Somehow, Sam appears again through the mass of bodies and blood, and his gaze meets your own. “ _Please…._ Just _RUN_!”

 

            And you do run. As though you were waiting all along for the order- his last order, you bolt, carrying the baby in your arms. This is the only thing you can do for him to ease the pain. You pound away through the sear of your wounded leg. You sprint through the trees, not caring what branches scratch into your face. You run even though the only thing you can see is the image of Sam’s bloodied body. His screams don’t fade away, even as you run farther and farther away from the window. You hear many other things through your headset. Shouts, wails, exclamations, but none of them seem to be making much sense. As far as you are concerned, the radio is as good as silent, because Sam’s voice is not among them.

 

            You fulfill Sam’s last wishes. You run. You don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. One individual tries to stop you and you ram them aside with one arm, being careful not to disturb the baby in the other. You find Maxine eventually, next to Paula, helping her with her plasmapheresis treatment. You don’t look either of them in the face. You can’t. You hand off the baby, eyes trained on the ground, and then you turn and keep running. Somebody calls out after you, but you don’t look back. You have a job to do. You have to make good on Sam’s last wish. You have to keep running. You have to do the one thing you’re good for.

 

            _It wasn’t supposed to be you_ , you think. _It was never supposed to be you that died. I was the runner. It was my job to do the dangerous things. Not yours._ The moment where Sam jostled past you, into the closing door, into certain death, flashes before your eyes.

_It should have been me._

_It was supposed to be me._

_I wish it had been me._

You decide then that you won’t be returning to Abel. There’s no sense in going back to an Abel Township without a Sam Yao there to greet you. There’s no point being a runner without the radio operator to guide you. No comms shack should exist without a Sam sitting at the desk, eating a Curly Wurly and apologizing when you accidently put your hand in the Marmite again. Suddenly, the realization crashes down on you: There’s no point to you running at all if Sam Yao is gone. There’s no point to anything if your best friend is dead. And so you stop running.

 

            The tears finally come.


End file.
